Internecine
by Hikasne
Summary: Finally she has him right where she wants him. NatsuMikan.


**title: **Internecine  
**author:** Hikasne  
**pairing(s):** NatsuMikan  
**time:** Hours and hours and hours etc.  
**music:** Scouting for Girls – She's So Lovely  
**summary**: "I'm not even close to done."

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in·ter·ne·cine_/ˌintərˈnesēn/ marked by slaughter; _especially_ **:** mutually destructive

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"What are you doing?"

He felt his wrists being pulled together in the semi-darkness; his eyes adjusted slowly, and he could see the soft swell of her cheek in his periphery, moving near his hip as she focused on keeping his arms together. He didn't struggle, instead letting her do what she wanted.

He was sitting in a chair in the darkness and she was kneeling at his feet. Horror masks were bobbing in and out of sight as he squinted into utter blackness. He felt the room becoming steadily colder as the remaining heat in the freezing room faded. It had been about twenty minutes since the power had gone out and it was getting so cold that he was starting to see his breath fog up in midair.

Mikan backed up from him, far enough so he could see the pale shape her whole face in the dark. His wrists were being loosely held together by one hand, and her free hand was in her hair, undoing her pigtails, the sound of her fingers rustling through it. He watched her ghostly hand move in that blackness, silently fascinated by how the soft caramel curls came unraveling down her back, cascading down and flashing in any dim light present, and the smell of mango shampoo came rushing over him like a tidal wave. All his senses seemed to be magnified tenfold with the loss of his sight, and his wrists felt very sensitive to her soft touch. He could have yanked away easily, if he'd wanted to.

Funny thing was, he didn't really want to.

"Shh," she said. "You're ruining it." Her voice echoed around the room, stark in the utter silence.

The thick ribbon he assumed she'd freed from her hair was now being tied by her inexpert hands, surprisingly tight around his wrist. Her warmth was radiating from her body, leaving the body parts close to where she was kneeling heated.

"Just remember you brought this upon yourself," she said shortly, standing up and then straddling his lap with both legs. Thoroughly confused, he accepted her lips pressed against his, not fighting, just her mouth and no tongue. She tasted—characteristically—like oranges, and she put her hand on the front of his chest, not moving it, just keeping it still there.

She was touching him, intimately, and the feeling of both thighs in her skirt against his legs was starting to excite him.

"Polka—" he started, but her lips were again against his, effectively silencing him.

"Be quiet," she said, commanding and condescending, opting to press her mouth instead to his temple when she released his mouth. Confused but uncomplaining, he didn't respond but watched the darkness in front of him silently, her body moving in front of him almost imperceptibly. The long white column of her neck was stretching ghostlike past his eyes. He strained to move his hands so he could put them around her waist, but the ribbon around his wrist was steadfast and triple-knotted. Intrigued as to where she was going with this, he let her kiss his temple again, his forehead, his hairline, his cheekbone, each time closer to his mouth. With his senses heightened the soft touch of her lips against his face seemed to bristle the hairs at the back of his neck.

"You know, all the times you taunted me, teased me, I never once paid you back? You were so _awful _to me. In fact…you still are awful to me. You made me miserable. I just wanted to feel welcome at this school. You didn't let me have that, so…"

She moved the hand that had still been holding his wrist to his leg, on his thigh but closer to his knee. He felt himself stiffen slightly and once again tried to pry his wrists apart, wanting to touch her, but whether to stop her or to egg her on further he wasn't sure. "…I want _you _to want something you can't have."

She slid closer to him, her body flush against his, and he winced as he grew harder still. The feeling of not knowing where exactly she was in the darkness made the feeling of her breath ghosting over his mouth all the more alluring. He suddenly felt very lightheaded as all the blood in his body rushed between his legs. He could feel himself swelling between her thighs.

"Tempt me?" he said quietly. "Don't be stupid. You're going too far." It was getting progressively more difficult to keep his voice even.

Deliberately she pressed her tongue to his lower lip but maneuvered away before he could do anything else. "A leash, Natsume? Dragging me around the carnival like some sort of dog? Don't you think that was going _too far_?" She smirked as his jaw went momentarily slack before he shut it. "I'm not your slave."

"Wasn't that the deal?" he asked, registering to her smirk, still managing to be haughty even in his position. "You should stop while you can, polka." It took a lot of effort to keep his voice steady, as her hand was working its way slowly up his leg.

To his surprise, she lifted her hand off the top of his thigh. "You're not the only one with tricks up your sleeve, Natsume."

With his sense of touch intensified, he could feel her hand coming toward him before it even happened, her body heat washing over each part of his leg individually, and every nerve stood on end until, with a silent groan on his part, her hand was pressed against him, the heel of her palm flat against his erection. He had to stifle a shout as he jerked involuntarily, instinctively trying to press himself further into her hand. He swallowed hard, and then tried to steady his gaze as he looked up at her. Her expression was smug and she was looking at him, not even fazed. She wrapped her fingers around him, closing each finger individually around it, not moving, just keeping her hand there. He tilted his head back minutely, mouth ajar, trying to compose himself.

"Is this because of me?" she asked, applying pressure gently with her palm and looking satisfied as he bent his head back yet further, chest moving up and down rapidly. "Aren't you going to stop me? What happened to _stop while you can_?"

Desperately, he attempted to summon his Alice so he could burn away the ribbon, because frankly his physical strength and clear-mindedness without it were questionable at the moment, but her nullifying power was as effective as his own was, and not even a spark would come from his fingertips.

"When I get loose, polka-dots, you're going to regret this," he threatened quietly, panting, wriggling himself closer to her hand even as he spoke.

"You'll get loose when I want you to get loose," she said, impervious to his glare. Without a warning, she closed her fingers tighter around him, clasping her hand deliberately around him, then releasing him hastily.

"Stop—" he said sharply, then amended, "No-do that again." He said it like a command, unblinking, looking down at her, wanting her to apply more pressure to his erection through his pants. "Move your hand."

Mikan, smiling, moved her hand away and he groaned sharply, hanging his head. He looked up, suddenly looking much less composed.

"You know that's not what I meant," he said hoarsely.

She stood up then, getting off his lap, and once again resumed a position kneeling at his feet, her mouth level with the waistband of his pants.

"So you're serious about this, polka? Finishing me off?" he said sarcastically, still trying to maintain face, watching every subtle movement of the veil of her hair in the darkness, trying to keep the pant out of his voice.

"In more ways than one," she said smartly, and then he felt her undoing his belt and pulling his pants down over his sharp hipbones and pale legs toward his knees, exposing the painful, swollen erection to the cold air of the empty room. He had to press his legs together to put some pressure on the unbearable heat between his legs, breathing erratically.

Slowly, tantalizingly, she opened his legs and pressed a kiss to the inside of his knee, and put a matching one on the inside of the opposite knee. She moved her lips upward—inwardly he wondered, _how had she learned to do this?—_to the inside of his thigh, closer and closer to where he wanted her to be. Helplessly, he tried to close his legs around her head, securing her there to make sure she wouldn't pull away.

He felt her smile against his leg. "Desperate, are we?" he heard her say, her lips moving against his leg, and she kissed the inside of the silky place where his legs met his hip, a few mere centimeters from where he was aching.

"_Mikan_," he said, urgently, and his voice sounded different than she'd ever heard it, but still she studiously avoided his very obvious arousal and kissed the opposite side of the conjuncture of his leg and hip. She proceeded to move her lips away fully from his body and just let her cheek rest on the top of his thigh, looking up at him, a little smile on her mouth. His erection was practically poking her in the face; he had to admire that she paid no mind to it, throbbing inches away from her.

"Put your mouth—" He seemed to be trying to restrain himself from saying it, and just looked down at her.

"Where?" she asked, innocently, her breath brushing over his erection. Her warm breath and the cold room made him stiffen, the lack of friction on his aching arousal unendurable. He looked down and could see her breath physically in midair, washing over his hardness, and he pressed his legs desperately together, moving her head closer between his legs.

He exhaled in a short puff, swearing, then closed his eyes. "On me…" He couldn't bring himself to say any more, just closed his eyes and tilted his head back so that his long neck was fully exposed.

Grinning, Mikan straightened, positioning her mouth directly over his eager head, which was huge with anticipation, nearly vertical. "You want me to…" And she briefly pressed her closed lips to his head. He nearly exploded right then and there, his appendage sensitive to even the merest touch, but she retreated as quickly as she had leaned in, leaving him frustrated and even needier than before. He felt himself _pulsating _with anticipation and he willed his Alice to come back so he could burn away his restraints and just fuck the girl already, but whatever weakness that was affecting him had the opposite affect on Mikan, because her nullifying Alice was working better than ever. His limbs had the consistency of jelly.

Rolling her eyes, she commented, "_I'm _the weak one?" before taking him fully into his mouth, alternating pressure, hooking one hand lightly behind his knee and one on the top of his other thigh. He automatically buckled into her warm mouth, lifting his hips all the way off the seat to gain more access into her mouth. He didn't bother stifling the shout that came to his mouth, and just as Natsume finally managed to tug his hands out of the fraying ribbon and grabbed the back of her head, the lights came on, and the heater as well with a click and a grumble, flooding the room with light and gradual warmth. He found himself staring into a particularly hideous mask across the room with rotten teeth and stringy hair, but his vision had gone so blurry that all he could see was a greenish blur in front of his face, his mind on total overload.

Mikan didn't even bother halting in her actions as they both heard faint footsteps hurrying toward them—Natsume was left to stifle his sounds as best he could.

"Natsume! Mikan! Are you in there?" Tobita shouted through the door. "I'm sorry, I—" His voice faded away as they heard a muffled groan. Looking confused, he restarted, "And you can come out now—" Again, a sharp, muted shout. "…are you guys okay?"

"_Mikan_!" was the ecstatic response, and everyone flinched as they heard something inside the locked room fall over. Hotaru was the only one who didn't look confused…or surprised.

"It was only a matter of time, really."

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_Okay, so I know the setting was probably a little confusing to you guys. This scene happened in volume four, I think? They're inside the haunted house and get locked in a room together, with all those masks on the walls, hence the referral to them in the story. Anyway, this is like Mikan's revenge for all the horrible things Natsume did to her from volumes 1-4. But they're both a little older in this fic than in the actual manga. In the manga they're ten/eleven, but right now Mikan's seventeen, and Natsume's eighteen. I thought I had to clear that up, that was probably confusing._

_Sorry about the AU-ness and the OOC-ness and everything. It was a little weird, but I enjoyed writing it! I think it's pretty decent._

_And my first smut-type M-rated fic. Dismantle, Repair was kind of a cheat. Be gentle! Review!_

Love,

Alli


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